


In the Next Life

by wolfgun



Category: Pandora Hearts
Genre: Multi, familial bonding ofc!, takes place after oz and alice are reincarnated
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:42:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24617770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfgun/pseuds/wolfgun
Summary: The pocket watch glinted coldly in the dappled light, turning in the stillness—the only thing in the world he was still connected to. Time was terribly cruel, and for the first instance in a hundred years, Gilbert cursed his Baskerville bloodline. And then, he heard the patter of footsteps, and a painfully familiar voice broke through the air—And he came face to face with his hope.[Gilbert, Oz, and Alice live together as a family and everything is perfect]
Relationships: Alice/Gilbert Nightray/Oz Vessalius
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	In the Next Life

{—+—}

Gilbert still felt the need to pinch himself as he hugged those two even tighter, his fingers running through a soft golden head and another silky black. A century had passed, a hundred years—he had spent the better part of the last half of it sitting by that grave, under that ageless tree. Waiting.

Vincent had been there, even when time took everyone else—Gilbert had managed to stay afloat all those years, able to weather the pain he shared with his brother. And yet, as if it all wasn’t enough, time finally managed to pluck his brother from his very hands. Then he was truly alone, sitting under that cursed tree, clutching Vincent’s empty coat—and everything came crashing down. Breath left him as his shoulders slumped in defeat; his eyes staring unseeing at the ground. The pocket watch glinted coldly in the dappled light, turning in the stillness—the only thing in the world he was still connected to. Time was terribly cruel, and for the first instance in a hundred years, he cursed his Baskerville bloodline. And then, he heard the patter of footsteps, and a painfully familiar voice broke through the air—

And he came face to face with his hope. The first few words were lost to him, but then he sucked in a breath, the blood returning to his face.

“We… haven’t recovered all of our memories. Vincent also said it was weird…” Gil slowly stood up, lurching forward on unsteady legs. It had been so long, but he still remembered— 

“But… It’s good to see you, Gil.” And then he was running, arm outstretched—locking Alice and Oz into a soul-crushing hug. Tears ran freely down his cheeks, and he found himself laughing, smiling at Oz’s wet face and Alice’s watery pout.

“Welcome back!”

{—+—}

They caught up as the trio headed to Gil’s place, about what happened, what was left, what changed, and what stayed the same. Oz and Alice seemed a little lost, but still nodded at the right times, still asked the right questions, seeming as overwhelmed as they were happy.

“Do you… remember?” Gilbert asked, hesitantly. They had knew _him_ , of course, but… to what extent? Oz hummed in thought, then tilted his head, eyeing Gil with those painfully familiar green eyes.

“Bits and pieces,” he said with a smirk, to which Gil sighed, pushing his bangs up to rub his forehead. 

“I know Seaweed-head,” Alice quipped, and Gil grunted at that old nickname, unsure whether to feel relieved or annoyed.

“... Stupid rabbit.”

Oz’s laugh cut through the air, and Gil’s irritation was promptly washed away. A small smile tugged at his lips as the two ran ahead of him, Alice darting away to catch a brightly colored moth and Oz seizing the tail of her coat to keep her close.

A hundred years. It had taken a hundred years for him to feel this kind of peace.

{—+—}

“It’s here,” Gil called, voice echoing off the brick buildings as Oz and Alice nearly overshot the alleyway his apartment was tucked away in. It was awash with shadows, even though the sun was still fairly high in the sky. Oz followed Gil curiously, but Alice paused, squinting into the darkness and crossing her arms.

“What, you live in a dumpster?” Gil immediately bristled at Alice’s remark, shoving his hands in his pocket to grab his key and denying that vehemently. The lock clunked as he shoved the key in, and then with a rattling and a twist, the heavy wood fell open. It was then, door revealing his tattered and moth-bitten carpet, that it hit him. He suddenly felt self-conscious, envisioning the manor they used to live in compared to the mess he called a home. Oz seemed to sense the sudden hesitation, as he was over the threshold before Gil could stop him.

It was worse for wear, if he was honest with himself. The stone outside smelled of mildew and leaf rot, and inside wasn't much better. The wallpaper was outdated and peeling, there were only three lights in the whole two-room-one-bathroom house, and only one of them worked consistently. Doors and hardwood floor alike were worn and warped—the panelling underfoot had made a loud protest when Oz stepped inside. Gil opened his mouth to say something as the scent of mothballs and aging glue hit his nose, but Oz turned, a wobbly grin spreading ear to ear.

“I’m home,” he said softly, and Gil nodded, a new emotion overpowering him.

“Welcome home,” he managed to choke out, and even Alice seemed to be holding something back, jumping inside and distracting herself with an inspection.

Gilbert closed the door as quietly as he could, locking it with a little difficulty. It was obvious he used the house only to sleep, as Alice tried to raid the pantry and saw only the disappearing tail of a mouse and a few crumbs.

Oz made his way to the bedroom, tutting at the mess. Bed unmade, blinds closed, dresser open with shirts and trousers hanging out. He ran a finger along the windowsill, inspecting the volume of dust and promptly sneezing.

“You, uh… It’s been a while since I’ve cleaned.” Gilbert gave a small cough and leaned awkwardly on the doorframe. It creaked under his weight.

“I would think a servant would know how to clean,” Oz remarked, voice light. “If you’d left a room like this, my father would’ve—“ He stopped then, opening and closing his mouth, a quizzical look on his face. “Huh.”

“Wh-what is it?” Gilbert was by his side in a heartbeat, reaching out, then pulling back at the last moment. 

“It’s just… I remembered that one time, in the manor. You left my bed a mess because of my cat, and… father…” A pained expression crossed his features, and Gil just shook his head, chuckling.

“Oz… That was a long, long time ago. There’s no need to be upset about it now.” 

“... If you say so,” he replied uncertainly, eyes seeming to focus on something else other than what was in front of him.

They both jumped as a loud crash sounded somewhere in the house, then leapt into action to see what the commotion was not a heartbeat later.

Alice was currently racing around the room, hair whipping wildly behind her, chasing a mouse across the top of Gil’s beat-up couch. It took a fraction of a second to realize what was going on.

“Stupid rabbit—!”

“Alice!”

She didn’t seem to hear them, hot on the mouse’s tail as it scrambled across the floorboards. Gil started as he realized where it was headed—straight for the hole in the back corner of the room.

“Wait, stop! Alice, you’re going to—!“ But it was too late; as the mouse ran for home Alice slid across the floor, arm outstretched. After a loud crunch, everything settled, and Oz and Gil ran up to the girl, who was now shoulder-deep in the wall. She beamed at them.

“Ha! I caught it! Little bastard, I’m going to make him pay for eating _my_ food!” She then tried to back out, attempting to pull her arm from the wall, but it didn’t budge. Her triumphant smile fell. “H-hey!” She struggled in vain for a moment, looking back at Oz, then accusingly at Gil. “Wh-why is your wall eating me!? Seaweed-head!”

“Hey, why is it my fault you’re a stupid rabbit!?”

“It’s your house! Let me go!”

After much grumbling and complaining, Oz and Gil eventually managed to get Alice unstuck, requiring her to let go of the mouse in the process. She glared at the hole in the wall, lower lip puffed and hair a mess. As the sun set, casting the room in a low light, the three looked around the dusty house and collectively sighed.

“...Let’s find something to eat,” Gil murmured, as Alice’s stomach rumbled loudly, “and get a few mouse traps.”

Luckily, there was one stall in the market that still hadn’t quite yet closed; the produce was measly and wilting, but it was better than nothing. Oz managed to haggle the farmer down to a few bronze coins for the lot, and they headed back.

Gilbert finished a beef stew just as the moon rose. It had been years since he had cooked anything of these proportions, and the aroma floating throughout the house made his heart ache. He watched as the two gulped down the food, barely taking time to breathe. Smiling to himself, he gladly gave them seconds, and then thirds.

After finishing his own bowl and washing the dishes, he turned to find both Oz and Alice asleep at his tiny dining table, Alice drooling across her plate with a smile. He took them in, beaming happily, a thousand things coursing through him all at once. Relief, sadness, happiness, pain, and love—overwhelming love. Yawning, he picked Alice up carefully with his only arm, accidentally waking Oz in the process.

“Gil?” He blinked sleepily, rubbing his eyes.

“It’s time to go to sleep,” he whispered, ruffling the boy’s hair. Oz nodded, and as Gil headed to the bedroom, he tottered closely behind.

Gil’s bed wasn't really dirty despite his lack of cleaning—it was the only thing in the house he consistently used. And even if it was, both Alice and Oz had no protest as Gil tucked them into the thick sheets, even as he paused for just a brief moment to brush Alice’s hair out of her face.

This time, there were no chains. The Baskervilles were just a legend, something akin to a bedtime story parents whispered to their children to scare them asleep. The Abyss was peaceful, and Jack and Lacie existed only in memory, right where they were supposed to be. 

Slivers of moonlight danced across the bed as Gil shuffled into it, hoping to whatever deity he needed to that this wasn’t a dream. He fidgeted, until finally Oz turned to him, eyes reflecting what little light there was. The boy pulled Gil close and wrapped Alice into a hug on his other side, and said into the stillness,

“We’ll be here when you wake up, Gil.”

He nodded, throat constricting, and bundled up tighter, the three of them squished onto the rickety bed. Eyelids finally fluttering shut, Gil held onto those words like a lifeline, the weariness finally pulling him under.

{—+—}

Gil shot up the next morning as sunlight assaulted him—his alarm was quickly replaced by relief and then annoyance as he found Oz smiling mischievously at him from in front of the now open blinds. Alice only growled and turned over, smashing the pillow on her head.

“Morning, Gil,” Oz chirped, and Gil’s grumpiness evaporated as he pulled him into a tight hug. They both erupted into a fit of coughing, as the blinds Oz had shoved open had showered a nice dose of dust on the both of them.

“Morning.” Oz returned the hug when they both recovered, and Alice jumped in, grunting about inclusion.

The three of them took their time getting ready for the day, fixing up some pancakes and leftover stew (which Alice delightfully combined). Oz and Gil watched with disgust and fascination respectively, though both with affection.

“You know,” Oz began, and Gil turned to him, ignoring Alice for the moment, “I keep thinking about my past life, and what happened. It seems crazy, yet I know in my heart it’s true.” Gil blinked, then smiled somewhat crookedly.

“Well, disregarding the Abyss and chains and all that… I’m…” Oz waited patiently, popping a piece of pancake into his mouth. Gil sighed. “... I’m pretty old.”

“Technically, since Alice and I remember some, so are we.”

“I guess…” Gilbert trailed off, and jumped slightly as he turned to find Alice staring intently.

“You’re an old man, so doesn’t that mean you get discounts and stuff? You know, for food.” Oz laughed, while Gil just sighed again.

“...I still look like I’m 20.” 

Alice made a small sound in the back of her throat and crossed her arms, muttering, “Useless.”

“Regardless,” Oz interrupted as the two began to glare at each other, “If you still look like this now, what does that mean for Alice and I? Will we age, and then you’ll just be the same?” Gil blinked at the boy. It seemed that no matter what Gilbert thought he was prepared for, Oz always found a way to catch him off guard.

“Well… Vincent looked the same he did a century ago when he…” Gil trailed off, taking a deep breath. “In short, I don’t know. You and Alice… are human, right?”

“Of course we are, sea-weed head!” Alice jumped up from her chair, slamming her palms on the table and sending the chair clattering, “We—!”

“Alice.” Oz put a hand on her shoulder, and she immediately turned her attention to him. They exchanged a long look, and then she sat back down with a _hmph_ , crossing her arms and kicking Gil in the shin. Gil, meanwhile, just frowned, deep in thought—reflexively reacting but not processing Alice’s attack.

The blood running through him gave him a ridiculously long life. Vincent had said some feel their time come, others don’t. He could be gone in a moment. Glancing at Alice and Oz as the two bantered back and forth, that thought wouldn’t leave his mind. 

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” Oz declared, pushing back his chair with a clatter, “for now, let’s just live—together.”

Gilbert smiled at Oz’s outstretched hand, and took it with a firm grip. Oz extended his other hand to Alice, and when she twined their fingers, Oz beamed at both of them.

{—+—}

The three of them ambled through the streets, Alice hopping from one meat stall to the next. Gilbert, every single time and quite reluctantly, bought her something whenever she turned her puppy dog eyes on him. At the end, he was loaded down by around 40 ounces of meat in his arms, sighing loudly every other step and cursing his weakness.

“So,” Oz started, watching Alice dash ahead yet again, “what do you even do for a living, anyway?”

“I do odd jobs,” He grunted, fiddling with the weight distribution in his arms, “like fixing watches and cleaning out attics…”

“Ah, so like servant’s duties?” Oz said it with his classic cheshire grin, but instead of being annoyed, Gil realized how true it was.

“Well… I guess. Just not for the same person each time, and I get paid.”

Oz nodded to himself, humming low in his throat. “In other words, you have time to clean and fix other’s things, but not your own.” Gil made a noise at that, even as Alice waved them furiously over, making Gil 5 ounces heavier and two coins lighter.

They stopped for cleaning supplies as well, grabbing everything from disinfectant to sewing materials to a wall repair kit. Oz also swiped a few mouse traps, buying three different types to test effectiveness and loading Gil up with the bag.

By the end of it, Gilbert’s legs were shaking from exertion and he could barely see in front of him to take a step. More than once he stumbled on the uneven cobblestone roads, and he tripped up the stairs to the apartment.

Oz unlocked the door and the three of them burst inside, looking around at the dust bunnies and discoloration. Gil heaved a sigh of relief as he was able to set the bags down, wiping his forehead and collapsing into a chair. Alice tutted at him and crossed her arms—and promptly engaged a staring contest. They lasted miraculously long—almost too long, as Gil’s eyes were watering uncontrollably and Alice’s were growing redder by the second. Finally, Oz came back to see what the two of them were up to and smacked them both on the head with a duster.

A raised eyebrow and a very disappointed, “Seriously?” was all it took for both to feel properly scolded and begin their work.

Gilbert put away their collection of various meats (followed by an eager and impatient Alice) and returned to Oz, who was currently organizing their cleaning supplies.

“Alright, time to make it shine!” He punctuated this with a loud smack as he gloved his hands, a genuine smile lighting up his face. Gil found himself chuckling at the sight.

“Oz, working?” Gilbert shook his head, taking a pair of gloves for himself, “What an interesting world we live in.” Regardless, Oz just beamed at him, and together they began to scrub the floorboards.

“Sea-weed head.” Alice said suddenly, standing in front of Gil with her hands on her hips, “I demand you make stew as compensation—using ALL the meats.”

Gil frowned, wiping a straggling piece of hair from his eyes. “I don’t think that will taste good.”

“It’s meat! It will!”

“I don’t—“

“As compensation!”

“That’s–I don’t even–for _what!?”_

She huffed at him, jumping around in a flourish and pointing accusingly, “For your house almost devouring me, of course!” Gil just groaned, rubbing his temples, desperately wondering if he had miscalculated.

Oz just laughed and reeled everyone back in; by sunset they had collectively removed about a half-century’s worth of dirt and dust. The house was visibly cleaner, and even Alice seemed pleased, humming at the table as they all took a break. Once Gil completed dinner (which was stew with only _one_ meat), the three of them ate together for the second night in a row. 

Alice was out like a light as soon as she finished off her third plate; Gil and Oz quietly gathered the remnants of the cleaning spree and did some organizing, but left the majority of it for tomorrow. This time, Oz carried Alice to bed, Gil following closely behind, turning out the lights one by one.

In the darkness, tucked into the sheets, Gil turned to Oz, finding the boy returning his look across Alice’s sleeping form.

“It’s different,” he said softly, almost surprising himself by saying something. Before he could decide to shut his mouth, he barreled on; “This house used to be so lonely… so cold. I didn’t take care of it because… because I didn’t have a reason to. But now, I…” Gil finally broke eye contact, gaze flickering across the room, back to Alice, and then slowly back to Oz.

Oz just smiled. But it wasn’t that mischievous, playful smile—it was a soft, fragile one. Slightly sad, but still inexplicably warm. Gil could feel that warmth slowly but surely seeping into his frigid bones, into the depths of his parched soul…

“You took care of only what you had to, to make sure you would be here when we came back,” Oz said, voice floating languidly through the air. “That’s enough for me.”

Gil could only nod, and even as he fell asleep beside their sleeping forms, he still felt like it was a dream. He wondered when that feeling would stop… when everything would become reality.

But it already was.

{—+—}

A week later, Oz was enrolling at a nearby academy. He had to purchase a uniform and a bookbag as well as a few textbooks—Gil felt a little nervous about sending Oz off for the day, but ultimately decided that it was for the best. Alice eyed the uniform a bit jealously, but when Gil asked about whether she wanted to attend, she crossed her arms.

“Of course not! Why would I want to bury my nose in a book and… and _suffer_ all day!?” Oz only burst into laughter at her haughty remark, and Gil shrugged, figuring she’d give in soon enough and follow.

But given another week, Gil was deep in the middle of repairing a grand old pendulum clock, and Alice was bored out of her mind. She tinkered with the parts Gil had scattered over the living room floor, especially interested in the pendulum.

“How does this piece of metal make noise?” She asked Gil, who had his sleeves rolled up and his glasses on, three types of screwdrivers sticking out of his hands and two screws between his teeth. He mumbled something unintelligible, to which Alice sighed dramatically and rolled off the couch, lamenting her boredom. “Sea-weed heeaaaddd,” she whined, rolling into him, “heeeeyyy…”

Gil paused in his work for a moment, spitting out the screws, and turned to look at the girl. “A few days of inactivity and you finally turn to me for help…” Alice pouted.

“See… this is how much I’m suffering… So much that I’ll ask undependable you.”

“Oh, I see,” Gil growled, switching out screwdrivers and pulling out a gear mechanism from inside the clock, “how terrible you have it.” She only groaned in response, flopping onto her back, black hair sprawling onto the floor.

“...When’s dinner?”

“In five hours.”

“....When’s Oz get back?”

“In two hours.”

“...Uuuugggghhhhh…”

Gil sat back as he re-tied his ponytail, watching Alice stare at the ceiling. Oz can be stimulated by books and puzzles and equations, but Alice has to be _doing_ something. She has to be on her feet, running around to feel satisfied, to feel like she accomplished something. He stretched, feeling his shoulders and spine crack satisfyingly, and shrugged on his coat. Alice immediately perked up.

“Where’re you going?”

“To the parts store.” As soon as his foot crossed the threshold Alice dashed out from the house, shouting something about gaining freedom as he turned to lock the door. He kept her in his field of vision as she zig-zagged around the crowd and miscellaneous stalls in the street, inspecting every curious little knick-knack or sign.

He barely managed to pull her into a small store; a small bell chimed as he opened the tawny door and led Alice inside. It was filled with a bunch of different things, from whistles to quills to glass bottles, to cranks and knobs and scrap metal. 

“Ah, Gilbert,” a middle-aged man greeted him, waving from his place behind a worn wooden counter, much darker in color than the rest of the store. “You haven’t stepped foot in for a while, so I was starting to wonder… but it seems you’re well.” His eyes moved to Alice as she deliberately popped out from behind. “Oh? Who’s the little miss, here?”

“I’m Alice!” She puffed her chest, dashing right up to the old man and holding out her hand. “Who’re you?”

“Alice,” Gil sighed, half warning, half exasperation. The old man just laughed, taking her hand in a firm grip.

“Name’s Meady,” he replied, to which Alice grinned.

“Ah, what a great name! Well met, Mr. Meaty!”

“Alice,” Gil groaned, “Please, it’s not—” 

“Oh, I don’t mind!” Meady said, letting out a loud laugh and regarding Alice warmingly. “Girl knows what she’s for, that’s a real gem!”

“Y-yes,” Gil said, removing his glasses and rubbing his eyes for a brief moment to compose himself. “Definitely knows… Anyway,” he said, replacing his glasses and walking up to the counter, “what parts do you have for old pendulum clocks? I got one where the gears are misaligned, and I need a pin.”

“Ah, lotsa stuff, lotsa stuff… Lemme get the box.” He disappeared into a small room behind the counter, to which Alice peered curiously into. She soon became disinterested in what she couldn’t see, so she began to check out the rest of the shop. There were a lot of shiny things, so Gil felt safe taking his eyes off her as she moved out from his line of sight.

“Here we are,” came Meady’s voice, and then himself, carrying a sizable wooden box that he placed on the counter with a clatter. Gil began to immediately search through it, mumbling to himself about the parts and whipping out his ruler.

“Mister Meat,” Alice called from across the store, “if that’s your name, why don’t you sell it? I’m sure you’d make a lot more money than just this junk.” She emphasized her point by waving around what looked like a piece of antique smoking pipe, about as long as her arm and missing the lip to blow into. Gil paled, but Meady just laughed good-naturedly, scratching at his graying stubble.

“There’s a million different meat sellers! Plus, I like this business. You see all sorts of different things you didn’t think ever existed. Meat may be a steady income, but it wouldn’t be a life for me.”

“What do you mean?” Alice placed the pipe back on the shelf and walked back up to the man, tilting her head. Gil sighed and promptly went back to digging in the box, but made sure to keep one ear open.

“Well,” Meady started, taking a moment to think. He hummed thoughtfully for a minute longer, then slapped his open palm with his fist in realization. “It’s like meat with no seasoning.”

Gil gave a jerk of surprise, then broke out into a smile. Alice seemed to understand right away, as she ooh-ed with amazement.

“I see, so that’s how it is… I see!” She nodded vigorously, and pulled at Gil’s coat. “Sea-weed head! I have to find my meat with seasoning!”

“Alice, I—I mean I’m glad you’ve made a decision, but it’s easier said than done…” He trailed off at the sparkle in her eye, and looked up to Meady, who was beaming proudly at himself for his explanation. Gilbert sighed again, scooping up the handful of pins and springs he picked out from the box, and threw a couple of coins on the counter.

“Be seein’ you, Gilbert,” Meady called, and Gil replied in kind, although it was drowned out under Alice’s call of, “Until I find my meat-with-seasoning, Mister Meaty!”

The whole way home, Alice stared intently at the many different shopkeepers; at what they had out, what they were doing, and how they did things.

“My seasoning, my seasoning…” she murmured, as she walked beside Gil, head bowed in thought.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys pls follow the beautiful and amazing @ozwuv on twitter


End file.
